


His Brooklyn Newsie

by missmysterious56



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), M/M, Protective Spot Conlon, Soft Spot Conlon, Spot is good with kids fight me, Worried Jack, brooklyn newsies are built different, female newsies, i really wanted to write spot with kids okay, jack and spot are together, jack like watching his boy be soft, minor jack/spot, no beta we die like snyder should have, they're both underage tho so I'm not sure if that counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmysterious56/pseuds/missmysterious56
Summary: Jack goes to visit his Brooklyn counterpart before the strike really takes off. This leans more towards 1992 newsies which is why I only tagged that one.Please ignore the terrible title it's the only thing I could think of. Also, prompt me for them if you feel like it.
Relationships: Spot Conlon & Brooklyn newsies, Spot Conlon & Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon & Original Character(s), Spot Conlon/Jack Kelly
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	His Brooklyn Newsie

Jack signals Race as he grabs his jacket, the younger boy, his second, nods in a silent acknowledgement and a promise to look after everything while Jack is gone. The cowboy doesn't need to tell Race where he is going, he already knows. There is nowhere else Jack would be going this late at night other than Brooklyn. Across the bridge. 

Despite the warm weather of late, the walk across the bridge is cool, the wind howling in his ears as he struts across the only thing separating Manhattan and Brooklyn. Crossing him into “enemy” territory. As the teen walks his mind drifts back to earlier that day, when he, Boots, and Davey paid a visit to the one and only Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn. He thinks of the blue eyes of the Brooklyn leader, that hold so much pain if you knew where to look. He thinks of the way they had softened when he first caught sight of Boots and Jack, holding a soft spot for the eleven-year-old, and the Manhattan leader. But he also thinks about how his eyes hardened the instant they caught sight of Davey stumbling behind them, eyes wide as he took in the sights of the Brooklyn docks that the newsies there had claimed as their own. 

“What are you doing here, Kelly?” One of the teens, Wolf, asks as he arrives at the lodging house. He's the same that had pulled himself out of the water landing in front of Jack and his entourage earlier today, successfully scaring the shit out of Davey. 

“I'm here to talk to Spot,” Jack responds, standing tall showing he wasn't scared of the bigger newsies. Not taller, but bigger due to the muscles he has from picking up shifts at the docks unloading heavy crates. 

“This better not have anything to do with that strike bullshit,” A girl speaks up, Stormi if he remembers correctly. The girl is the leader of the girl newsies in Brooklyn who also takes up sewing jobs along with some of the older girls to earn some extra money. The Brooklyn newsies operate differently than the other boroughs due to their size, but also due to the amount of young abandoned or orphaned children that occupy the area. Spot and Stormi are known for never turning away the young ones, so depending on how other boroughs were faring the kids would be sent to Brooklyn. The two leaders had no trouble turning away the older teens, especially if they were not going to cooperate with the system in place. 

“It might come up,” Jack retaliates as Stormi stands. Unlike Sarah and Katherine, Stormi doesn't dress in a skirt and boots at all times. Only wearing them when she was in a factory working as is code. Instead, she wears a pair of boots and Spot’s old pants adding to the effect of the pitiful orphaned girl doing what she can to survive, but also keeps the old creeps from moving in on her. 

“Just don't make ‘im angry. After you left one of the little ones came back from selling with a black eye. He didn't take it well,” Stormi says, leading the older through the crates outside the lodging house. Finally, they come to an old shed that some of the boys use to fix up the odd table that someone brought to them broken. Jack nods in acknowledgment as the girl takes her leave. 

“Spotty?” Jack questions, his voice raised so it carries through the shed. Further ahead he hears movement before he sees Spot walking closer, swiping his long sandy hair out of his eyes, successfully getting stain on his forehead. 

“What Jack?” Spot asks, weariness of the oncoming conversation shining through. Jack looks at Spot taking in his appearance, noting the dark circles under his icy blue eyes, and the stain that covers his tank top. Between the lack of a nickname and the dark crescents under his eyes jack knows that something is up. 

“You okay, Spotty?” Jack asks as the younger teen wipes his hands off on an old rag. The sixteen-year-old looks at the older with a dumbfounded expression as if Jack had just asked the stupidest question he could. 

“What do you think, Jack?” Spot snarks back. The Manhattan leader pays no mind to the aggressive behavior of his Brooklyn counterpart knowing it is simply a coping mechanism for the younger leader. When he doesn't know how to respond he snarks. Jack simply stares at the boy waiting for a response. “One of my boys got hurt today. The mafia is causing problems on the street again. I got some boys on their way to the refuge right now because they got caught stealing blankets for the younger kids and I need to figure out how to get them out before they end up like us having nightmares of the place. Not to mention this whole strike business and the cost of the papes going up.” 

“Wanna send some of the youngsters over to Manhattan for now?” Jack questions, focusing on the one thing he can actually help with. The most he can do for the kids in the refuge is have some of his boys drop off supplies for them and have his boys on the inside watch out for them. 

“Yeah, and get them caught up in this strike business? No way. Besides, you couldn't even keep Crutchy out of the refuge. Who's to say you can keep my kids out of there?” Spot says with a scoff. He watches Jack flinch and realizes what he said. “Listen, I-”

“It's fine, Spotty,” Jack says, cutting him off. “You're right I couldn't keep ‘im out of the refuge. But we did fight and we aren't giving up now.” 

“I know, Jacky, I know you did. That's why ima tell Bowery, Bronx, and Queens to back you up. I would myself but I got too much stuff going on right now. Give me a day or two and we'll back you then,” Spot says taking Jack by surprise. The older’s head snaps up quickly at the announcement and he lets out a sound of joy grabbing Spot by the waste and spinning him around. The younger of the two lets out a sound of surprise, but doesn't fight the show of affection. When Jack places him back down Spot quickly regains his composure. “So, Mouth.”

“He's the brains. Figured he was the best chance at convincing you,” Jack shrugs, taking in the way the sandy blond’s shoulders shake as he laughs. 

“You thought the walking mouth was the best way to convince me? Coulda sent Racetrack, Boots, or literally anyone else and they probably woulda done a better job, Jacky.” 

“Yeah, yeah, well everyone said that you made ‘em nervous and didn't want to come,” Jack argues, which has Spot rolling his eyes. The Brooklyn native moves to say something else when the shed door is pushed open and in walks a little boy with a black eye. 

“Spot, I had a nightmare,” the boy says rubbing his good eye. The boy can't be more than eight, Jack realizes within seconds. No wonder Spot was so wound up. Jack would be angry too if one of his kids came back with a black eye. 

“Come here, Marbles,” Spot says, kneeling down lifting the boy into his arms when he gets close enough. Jack revels in the moment appreciating the side of Spot that very few get to see. “You're okay, I promise. I said I won't let anything happen to you and I mean it. You're gonna come selling with me tomorrow right?” 

“Mhm,” the boy mumbles trying to keep his eyes open and fight the drowsiness that is taking over. Spot shoots Jack an apologetic look that the older knows means their short visit is coming to an end. 

“Well if you wanna do that you gotta go to sleep, okay bud?” Spot questions, waiting for the boy’s response. A mumbled “okay” that Jack, despite standing no more than two feet away from Spot has trouble catching. “Say bye to Jacky-boy and then we can go to the lodging house. You can even sleep with me.”

“Bye-bye, Cowboy,” Marbles says, already drifting back to sleep in Spot’s arms. Spot grins slightly adjusting his hold on the tan boy. 

“Come by tomorrow night? We can have some alone time,” Spot says with a suggestive wink that has Jack smirking already planning for tomorrow. Jack nods, following the Brooklyn leader outside. “Bye, Jacky.”

“See ya, Baby,” Jack replies, taking in the sight of Spot flushed under the moonlight from the nickname. Spot starts walking away moments later giving Jack the opportunity to watch until the younger disappears behind the crates. Once he does Jack begins his own journey back to his lodging house thinking about how the night turned out better than he could have expected. Even if he didn't get alone time with his Brooklyn newsie. 


End file.
